Coastline Pilot

19 March 2004

 

Chasing the Muse

Catharine Cooper

 

The graceful flight of a frigate bird’s shadow plays on the sand, as I sip hot coffee in a seaside restaurant in the picturesque city of La Paz, Mexico.  The easy glide of its distinct body shape draws my eye toward the sea, colored with the morning light in shades of azure and cerulean blue.  An osprey breezes past, freshly caught fish clenched with razor sharp talons.  In the distance, a Holland America cruise line lumbers toward Pinchilingue, and every surface is kissed by brilliant warm sunlight. 

 

The troubles of the world seem more than merely thousands of miles away.  La Paz, the city of peace, has a way of erasing what ails the heart and mind. A joyful population fills this capital of Baja California Sud, and prides itself on manifesting its name in negotiations, relationships and interactions.  Ever mindful of its connection to the sea, all eyes turn toward its magnificent bay.

 

The recently reconstructed Malécon, a four-mile waterfront walkway, is the pride of the city.  Grey and adobe pavers define the pathway in a snaking pattern, while joggers, dog walkers, lovers and children ply her distance.  Statuary commemorating the naming of the city, and strategically place benches beg the weary or the pensive to stop, rest for a while, and contemplate the vistas.  Children play on swing sets, fishermen set their course from the sandy shore for their day’s outing, and cadres of trabajadores cleanse the beach of trapped piles of seaweed. 

 

It is hard to fathom, when confronted with such scenarios, that the world remains painfully troubled. My heart breaks with the news of the senseless, illogical and incomprehensible bombing of innocent citizens in Spain.  How can it be, that we, these amazing human creatures, are unable to stand, one to the other and embrace our differences with respect, rather than disdain?  Where is the love that we believe to be our birthright?  How is it that religion, which should unite us, can be used in the name of terror?

 

Gazing toward the United States from a foreign shore, I am gifted with the reflection of distance, and survey the power of our great country, built one stone upon one stone, slowly and with conscious intent.   Freedom, and the ability to remake and redefine our selves, has served as a beacon to others across the globe, suffering the stifling affects of oppression.  Countless countries have striven to emulate what we have patiently constructed.  I pray, that while confronted by the onslaught of what I can only call evil, we are able to maintain those foundations that have produced our strength.

 

Here, in La Paz, it is peace between men and countries that seems logical, and anything less than that, an impediment to our progress as a species.  Whether it is the watery window to the world or its somewhat remote location, life seems easier, both to those who pass through and those who call it home.

 

As the day wanes, I feel a sense of remorse that I cannot claim a tangible contribution toward the peace for which my heart longs.  Unless, it is true, that each individual’s energy contributes to the collective whole, and then hopefully, my musings and prayers have counterbalanced the negativity of those who would wish us ill.

 

On the beach, a mother and child hurriedly put the finishing touches on a sand creation.   A dark Labrador races in the dimming light.  Palms fill with the song and twitter of blinding yellow orioles, and the screech and tapping of a rust bellied woodpecker.   A feral cat cries out, begging for someone to provide supper.

 

The sun slips behind the narrow peninsula, painting what was once an azure sea with a palette of persimmon, melon and primary red.  An osprey wings past the quiescent palms, his dark and white wingspan bathed in the colors of the sky.  I scan the fading sky with a whispered request, that the blessings of La Paz wend their way to distant shores.

 

Venus emerges in the darkness, her bright light shimmering as a pathway across the sea, beckoning lovers to follow.  Overhead, the first star appears, and, as usual, I make a silent wish.  A serene smile turns up the corners of my mouth as I bask in the beauty of creation.  I am so incredibly lucky to be a part of this moment. 

 

Catharine Cooper loves wild places. She can be reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net.